Strega Cacciatoris
by Defc0n
Summary: When the Strega Cacciatoris, a secret organization dedicated to destroying all practitioners of majk, gets involved in destroying the Hunts Klan has the American Dragon found a new ally, or a ruthless enemy
1. Disclaimer

**Disclaimer** – I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long, I wish I did, but I don't. I do not own any of the American Dragon: Jake Long characters, locations, or anything else that could possibly be associated with American Dragon: Jake Long. I do however own Cl¥de and all of the other original characters. I do own Strega Cacciatoris. If you wish to use any of my original characters feel free to ask permission and I will tell you to go ahead and do so. However if you do decide to use my characters without my permission I may get pretty pissed. I won't come to your house and cut your head off or anything but I will be mad. Thank you, Enjoy the story

Strega Cacciatoris

When the Strega Cacciatoris, a secret organization dedicated to destroying all practitioners of "majk", gets involved in destroying the Hunts Klan has the American Dragon found a new ally, or a ruthless enemy


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
Defc0n 

Cl¥de entered the ancient chamber and felt the still and musty air hit him square in the face. Though the entire facility was deep underground the air in this room was especially rank. Paying it no regard he advanced forward staying in the shadows. Nearly invisible in his jet black combat gear Cl¥de slipped past the chamber's entry way. He made his way to the chamber's right side and took refuge among pillars lining the wall. Paying no attention to the group of people at the chamber's center Cl¥de began to prepare. Drawing his custom pistol from the holster on his right leg Cl¥de looked for his first target. For the first time seeing the center of the chamber Cl¥de scanned the scene. On a raised platform at the center of a large crowd was a hooded figure, trembling as unknown energies flickered through the air, Cl¥de's hair stood on end. Surrounding the figure were some two dozen others, similarly dressed and chanting. He had seen it before…..cultists, and by the look of if he had arrived just in time, their summoning was almost complete. With a mental signal Cl¥de activated his eyescreen, and with a wine a small flat screen flipped down across his eye. Data began to rush across the screen. Names and pictures of identified cultists, dates, number counts, and a description of the ritual flashed past. He took it all in and with another mental signal activated a timer which displayed on the screen. _+0:01+ _Raising the gun he sighted the figure on the platform. Cl¥de slowly pulled the trigger and the otherwise dark room lit up, once, twice, three times. The cultist jerked backwards, all three rounds finding their targets blood splattered across the room and the cultist fell from the platform. _+0:04+_ In an instant Cl¥de was a blur darting through the rest of the columns and pumping rounds into the still motionless crowd. _+0:06+_ Cl¥de ran to the end of the chamber. Before the other cultists had time to react another six had fallen. _+0:07+_ At the end of the chamber Cl¥de paused, turning he raised his pistol again and flashed off another three round burst. Another three cultists fell. _+0:09+_ Now reacting one of the cultists produced his own weapon and began to fire. _+0:11+_ Cl¥de ducked back behind a column and ripped a grenade from his vest. Pulling the pin Cl¥de turned and threw, hurling the grenade into the crowd and rolling forward, behind another column. _+0:13+ _The cultists dove for cover, they were too late. _+0:16+_ A dephening roar shook the chamber as the grenade detonated. _+0:17+_ Chunks of rubble were ripped form the floor and walls while meat was striped from cultist bones. Blood splattered the walls and floor. _+0:18+_ Silence, _+0:18.419+_ then came the moans, Cl¥de sighed, there were survivors. _+0:19+_ Stepping from behind the column Cl¥de again scanned the scene, this time a very different one. Gore covered the floor and a slick of blood and other bodily fluids covered the floor. Arms, legs, and feet, all separated from their original owners, lay strewn about the floor. Some disfigured forms still twitched in their dying throws, others who were not fortunate enough to have died in the blast would have to face interrogation. _+0:20+_ Cl¥de moved toward one such figure and held his gun level over the disfigured man's forehead. "Tell me who you are and I'll end this". _+0:25+_ Amid the man's groans and choking two words were audible "Hunts Klan". _+0:30+_ Cl¥de pulled the trigger. _+0:30.013+_ the man's head exploded. _+0:30.510+_ With another mental signal Cl¥de stopped the timer. +_0:30.953_+ "_So it's the Hunts Klan I'm dealing with"…._


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Defc0n 

Special Agent in the field of Occult Studies Cl¥de O'Donnell stood at a sharp attention in the center of the council's chamber. The room was small and well lit allowing every detail of the room and it's occupants to be clearly seen. Against the far wall was a raised desk built into the marble chamber. The desk was raised and sat three, all of the seats were filled. In the center seat was a man Cl¥de knew only as The Commander. He was a formidable man but Cl¥de had never seen him in the field, while the man had his trust he didn't intend to let him know any time soon. To the man's right was a large bald man that Cl¥de had never seen before. New men were never good signs. To the left was Cl¥de's personal commander, Cl¥de knew him as Sir. Sir had Cl¥de's complete trust, he knew.

Cl¥de stood rigid with his feet touching at the heels and spread at an exact forty-five degree angle. His hands were tightly balled and his thumbs were perfectly aligned with the seam of his uniform trousers. His arms were pinned perfectly at his sides and his eyes stared straight ahead, face showing no emotion. He wore standard Service Dress Blue, and was the pinnacle of perfection. His shoes were perfectly shined and pants perfectly pressed. His coat was clean and crisp. Cl¥de's numerous ribbons were pined exactially one quarter inch above his left jacket pocket and nametag, bearing a bold "O'Donnell" was perfectly parallel to the ribbons. He wore no rank, if he did it would be that of a Master Chief Petty Officer, E8, Cl¥de's pay grade. Cl¥de's mind however was not nearly as rigid or unwavering as years of practice had taught his body how to be. His thoughts still dwelled on the previous night.

Once the grenade had detonated the ancient building's structural integrity came into question. Apparently the ancient ancestors of the now dead cultists had not counted on heavy munitions being used _inside_ the building. Within moments the building began to collapse around him and Cl¥de was forced to run for cover. Sprinting through the trembling corridors Cl¥de met minimal resistance. Those fool enough not to flee for their lives were left to face Cl¥de's expert marksmanship. Most fell easily and those that didn't fled, they were the smart ones. Others however seemed bent on stopping the intruder. These combatants were armed with powerful weaponry, the likes of which Cl¥de had never seen. Green blasts flashed off the walls and floor tearing mini-craters in the stone. Cl¥de dodged, and rolled, his opponents never standing a chance. Within moments the corridors were again clear and he continued to move. Finally Cl¥de reached the facility's entrance, in this case however it would be the perfect exit. Pulling another grenade from his vest Cl¥de let it fly at the massive stone door blocking his path. Within moments a fair size hole was blown through the door. The first light that Cl¥de had seen in hours filtered through, almost there. Years ago that light would have been the death of him, but now, now that his medication finally worked, the light was just that, light. Dashing forward, dodging falling rubble along the way, Cl¥de smashed square through the door and burst out into the hot New Mexico air. Spread before him was a murky pool glowing blue-green in the morning light. Even now, in broad daylight it was creepy. Suddenly came a massive crash from behind him. Dust and rubble flew through the air as the ancient facility collapsed into the hillside it was built into. Cl¥de set off his pick up signal, his ride would be here shortly.

"_Ahem"_ Sir cleared his throat, jolting Cl¥de's mind back into reality. He did all but blink to show his attention had returned. "Your performance last night was excellent, to say the least, however some details were a bit, well, disturbing. The man you 'spoke' with is as of yet unidentified, however the 'Hunts Klan' he spoke of sheds some incredible light on resent events."

"We believed they were a long dead organization, it seems that we were wrong" added The Commander. He was clueless to their true nature. Cl¥de knew, he had fought them before.

"Yes, apparently we were. Our techs have brought up all the available information, it is not much but we transferred it to your eyescreen for your own viewing 'pleasure'. For this briefing however we found it necessary for you to receive a brief history."

"_As if I need it_" Cl¥de thought

"Mr. Cullman," at this Sir gestured to the bald man at the other end of the desk "is a former 'member' and has provided us with some 'insight'". Cl¥de tensed, his first visible outward movement since he entered the room. Here in his presence, a member of the Hunts Klan, enough to make Cl¥de's blood boil.

"I thought they killed defectors" Cl¥de said, and after a pause "and traitors"

"They do, I was fortunate enough escape their retribution" said Cullman "now the 'activity' you interfered with last night, it was no summoning ceremony as you might have thought. Its purpose was to prepare for a hunt."

"Who knows what may have happened if you hadn't intervened" interrupted Sir.

"Not necessarily" added Cullman "there would have been no effects on the public at large. You see the Hunts Klan specalises in the hunting of mag**_—_**

"I don't care what they 'specialize' in Mr. Cullman, tell me where they operate and tell me how to 'Neutralize' their threat on society" Sir again interrupted.

"The current Base of Operations is in New York, but**_—_**"

"Well Cl¥de, looks like you are goin' on a road trip" Added The Commander.

Cl¥de shot up a salute, turned and walked straight from the room. The Hunts Klan was back, and so was Cl¥de. He headed to his quarters, he would need some sleep, his ancestors were nocturnal, he wasn't.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapret 3  
Defc0n

His room was Spartan, to say the least. A bed and small dresser were pressed against the wall. A closet, containing his combat gear, was directly across from the door. There was no TV, no windows, and no mirror (after all, what would the point of one of those be). There was however a small radio placed on the dresser.

Cl¥de entered and opened the top left dresser drawer. Quickly searching through he found what he was looking for. A small injection needle, filled with Cl¥de's medication, his lifeline. Removing the cap he slammed the needle straight into his leg, slowly injecting the liquid Cl¥de bought himself another day. Cl¥de removed the needle, broke it in half and threw it away, the less people who knew about this the better. Now Cl¥de opened the closet.

Immediately a light flickered on, revealing the closet's contents. Along the right side was an entire arsenal, pistols lay in their racks, ammunition pre-loaded into clips. Three MP-5s, each one different, lined the wall and Cl¥de's pride and joy, a M40 Sniper Rifle hung from the sealing. He selected a weapon, his favorite. A custom made pistol, the barrel was extended, as was the clip. It had the capability to fire three shot bursts as well as single shots. A small laser pointer at the tip allowed him to "paint" targets for other units. Turning back to his weapons Cl¥de tossed the pistol onto his bead. He then selected an MP-5. This one had a light attachment, extended barrel and added stock. It could fire AP bullets as well as shredder rounds. He selected clips of both. Cl¥de also removed his combat uniform. Jet black it consisted of a wetsuit-like garment that went under the uniform. Very strong it could easily take a bullet and leave its wearer unharmed. Then came long pants, lined with strips of Kevlar over the knees, a simple t-shirt, and a plated vest that in addition to providing a place to keep his grenades gave Cl¥de a boost in his reflexes. And of course his eyescreen, giving him vital intel. on the battlefield. And to think his ancestors fought with swords, and teeth. Cl¥de loved technology.

Placing his eyescreen over his left ear Cl¥de activated it. Smoothly it came into place over his eye, instantly new information regarding the Hunts Klan came across the screen. Flashing through it Cl¥de ignored the figures, dates and deceptions displayed; he already knew everything that he needed. Being what he was, he had good reason. His last encounter had been less than pleasant. But he didn't have time for reminiscing on the past; he was going back to New York. Packing his remaining gear Cl¥de sat on his bed and slept.


End file.
